Among the Dolls
by lclaudia6913l
Summary: Paul’s hard work finally pays off and he makes it into the Dollhouse, just not in the way he imagined it would happen. Spoilers: Up to 1.04 – Gray Hour and any future episodes should they spark my muse – I will update spoiler warning as needed.


bTitle:/b Among the Dolls

bAuthor:/b lj user="claudia6913"

bRating:/b R

bWarnings:/b language, nudity, violence

bPairing:/b Paul, all cast

bDisclaimer:/b I'm just playing in the fields of Joss' imagination. They have unicorns here.

bSpoilers:/b Up to 1.04 – Gray Hour (and any future episodes should they spark my muse – I will update spoiler warning as needed.)

bSummary:/b Paul's hard work finally pays off and he makes it into the Dollhouse, just not in the way he imagined it would happen.

bDistribution:/b lj user="fandeyth", lj user="dollhousefics", lj user="blank_dolls" other's ask.

bAuthor's Note:/b This bunny bit me and I cannot let it go. Unbeta'd thus far, all mistakes are my own. Please point out any glaring errors. Currently seeking a beta for this. Chapter 1 answers lj user="dollhousefics" Challenge 004 – Instinct.

img src=".com/claudia6913/pic/00073dca"

bAmong the Dolls – Chapter 1/b

iDollhouse.

He had to find it. Save the girl – save the day. Save them all.

Caroline. Lost girl. Pretty girl with pretty eyes.

Lost. They were all so lost.

Taken in more than just a physical sense. Minds wiped, bodies moved like puppets.

Dollhouse – such a sinister name, and yet so apropos./i

**********

The fight had ended - finished in a blaze. It had to end the way it did. He knows that, had even been forewarned by Mr. Dominic. Laurence. The man told him his fighting partner would die at his hands. Blood drips down his brow and he wipes at it before it can get in his eye. His body aches. He aches.

The man's death lays heavy on his conscious. This wasn't his first kill, not by a long shot. Laurence said it was necessary. Needed. That man had to be put down, and this venue was the only way to do it. And he was the only man to do it.

"Are you ready for your treatment now, Paul?" Laurence asks, escorting him into the black van they'd arrived in.

"Yes," Paul answers automatically. His voice sounds thick to him, so unlike his own. Adrenaline, maybe – or perhaps he is getting sick. Treatment – his mind wanders, following blindly this Laurence. He wants to rally against this, he knows he should, but cannot, and knows not the reasons why he goes blindly when instinct tells him otherwise.

The van rocks on the highway, going to a destination he knows but does not know. It is an oddly familiar drive, and yet he cannot name the place to which they are going.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Ballard?" Laurence asks, seemingly concerned. Paul recognizes that look on a man's face when he is feigning interest to extract specific information. He'd used that look many times in the Bureau.

Paul shakes his head, in spite of himself. The answers will come. Soon enough they will come. He's worked too long and come too far to make a blunder of this opportunity. He is so close to iThe Dollhouse/i he can feel it. Just a little bit more information and he can go to the Bureau and blow it wide open. Free those trapped. Save them all.

The van rocks to a stop and Laurence opens the door, motioning for Paul to step out. He does so and finds himself in an underground garage. Familiarity creeps along his spine, but he cannot place his surroundings. It is like déjà vu, only vaguer than even that.

"They're waiting for you," Laurence says, motioning to the elevator that is opening before them.

"For my treatment," Paul says hollowly, turning to the doors. Stepping in, he turns to face Laurence. "I have some questions for you when I get back."

Laurence nods as the doors to the elevator close and Paul travels up.

As soon as the doors open Paul knows he is somewhere significant. Knows this is an opportunity not to be passed up. Finish his treatment and he will go exploring this place for the answers he knows it contains. He can feel it prickling against his skin.

"Please, have a seat, Paul," a young man says calmly, motioning to a rather odd looking chair.

"Who are you?" Paul asks, wary. His body, however, moves to seat itself in the chair without his permission or knowledge. Again he fells the need to rally against this, but cannot.

"Topher," the young man answers. "Just lay back and we can do your treatment. It may pinch a little bit."

The chair lowers slowly, almost ominously. Paul's mind rages against it, his muscles bunching and straining to leave the seat, but his body does not move.

And then - there is nothing.


End file.
